


Festive Treat

by hobbeshalftail3469



Series: Christmas Fic prompts [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas trees are NOT cheap!, F/M, Robin has a tiny flat, Robin is divorced, The office needs some festive cheer, post LW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-01-20 16:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: This was posted last year as part of a prompt challenge - I selected 4 prompts and made them into 1 story, but they were posted in 4 separate fics, and it always annoyed me - they were a series, but the fact that certain ones had far fewer hits than others leads me to believe that some folks didn't read them all as intended - maybe they couldn't find them because I'll be honest it also got caught up with the 'showing on the fandom on the date it was posted rather than the date of teh challenge!)So, this is a little Festive tale with all 4 chapters in sequence.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: Christmas Fic prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534328
Comments: 44
Kudos: 37
Collections: Cormoran Strike Boxing Day Ficlet Fest





	1. You don't have to go to all this trouble, you know.

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [StrikeBoxingDayFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeBoxingDayFest) collection. 

“You don’t have to go to all this trouble, you know,” Strike commented as Robin wrestled the bare, 6 foot tree across the office floor.

“I bloody well do! Matthew made me fight for this tree! The fact that it won’t actually fit in my new postage stamp sized flat is irrelevant….so it’s going in here!” she stated, blowing the few tendrils of hair which had escaped her rough pony tail off her face. "And anyway, you said you could cope with more Christmas spirit in here!!"

Strike found himself grinning, as he so often did in her company, and also found himself slightly transfixed by the sight of the sheen of sweat on her upper lip and smooth forehead, wondering what the combination of it’s taste with her lipbalm would be like beneath his lips.  
He shook away the thoughts however as he hefted the large box he had been entrusted with over to her desk.

“You mean to tell me this bloody Christmas tree was part of your divorce settlement?” he smirked, opening up the tape on the box with his keys and a dollop of brute force.  
Robin nodded, “Clearly you have no idea how much Christmas trees cost! Anyway, I bought it, and these are MINE,” she gave a sweetly excited, purse-lipped sound as she trailed her fingers through the golden tinsel nestling on top of the box. "And I want it to look festive in here!"

Cormoran quirked his eyebrow as he indicated the selection of cards from various utilities companies and the odd work based company on top of the filing cabinet.  
“It was already festive! Nothing says the birth of Christ like a pre-printed card from the bank; although I’m quite proud of the one from the pizza place!”

Robin shook her head as she rummaged in the box and lifted out various twinkly decorations, carefully placing them on the sofa.

“You don’t think being such a valued customer of a take away pizza establishment that you warrant a hand written Christmas card is a little bit of an omen regarding your possible heart health?” she quipped, although her eyes sparkled with amusement rather than derision.

Cormoran affected a wrinkle nosed look of mock concern, “Well….maybe don’t tell Nick about it! Right….what next, bung all these on?” he indicated the tinsel and ornaments.  
Robin stared aghast at him, “NO! Lights first, then the baubles, only then do we tinsel it!” she waggled a finger at him and returned to her task of extracting various items from the box to reach the lights, which were at the bottom.

Cormoran stifled an aroused growl at her slightly ‘school teacher’ manner of addressing him, “Yes, Miss!” he mock saluted and moved to assist her.


	2. Decorations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Strike decorate the office Christmas tree.  
Strike is reminded of family, in a good way; and Robin has a saucy mum!

Their hands briefly brushed against each other as they removed baubles and other hanging decorations from the box.  
Cormoran was struck with how varied and almost ‘traditional’ Robin’s choices were.  
He’d seen Charlotte’s trees in the past and they were always rigidly based on one colour theme, with only a couple of varieties in the shape of baubles.  
The range that was now almost filling the small sofa cushions however was made up of all sorts of designs, materials and colours.

There were brightly coloured wooden ones; beautiful swirling glass baubles; flat, ceramic ones with ribbon loops; a few made of bare wood with dark, scrollwork etched into them; various coloured and shaped baubles…in fact as he handled a rather beautiful robin shaped ornament covered in felt and feathers he realised that there were no 2 alike.  
He stifled a small chuckle as he carefully placed the bird onto the desk.

“What’re you laughing at?” she asked as she brushed her fingers over the soft, marabou wings of a glass angel.

“They just remind me of my Aunt Joan’s decorations…..I like it Ellacott!” he smiled, draping a length of red tinsel around Robin’s neck like a scarf.

Robin managed to bring herself back from wherever she had drifted to, [had his finger tips just scraped against her collar bone and flicked some of her hair aside when he’d done that thing with the tinsel?] and she finally located the box of neatly wrapped tree lights at the bottom of the box.

“If they go on first why the hell are they at the bottom of the box?” Strike asked, smiling at how neatly they had been re packaged into the original box, unlike the ones he’d seen Nick trying to untangle earlier that week as he’d ‘helped’……and watched the match of course!

Robin tutted and rolled her eyes….but made a mental note that he was of course quite correct, and she should pack the box differently.  
“Just shut up and plug them in,” she noticed his blank look, “No point getting them on the tree if they’ve stopped working!” she explained and she saw him nod in acceptance of her impeccable logic – as always!

Satisfied that the lights still worked; and on Strike’s part that they weren’t some sort of flashing, multi-coloured monstrosities; Robin instructed him how to work down the tree so that the flex trailed close to the ground and reached the plug socket easily.  
“You being so tall helps in this bit,” she grinned as his long arms easily managed to drape the cable around the bristly, green tree.

“It does come in handy sometimes,” he smirked back, “However, the shelf in my fridge is low enough for you to reach……it’s gone 5…..beer?”

“Egg nog would be more festive!” she glared, and giggled outloud at the look of abject horror on her partner’s face.

“I’d rather lick my own foot!” he shuddered as he heard her continued laughter and light footsteps heading up to his flat above the office.  
Robin returned with 2 bottles of beer and handed one across, offering her own up in a ‘Cheers!’

He reached over, accepted the beer and the bottle clink before downing a significant gulp of the chilled lager and resuming his slightly ungainly, but effective placement of the lights.  
“OK, I think that’s it,” he stated as Robin raised her hand to pause him as he reached for the first decoration, which happened to be the little, feathery robin.

“Let me just check, we don’t want them all in a clump!” she stated, earning an eye rolling snort from Cormoran.  
“Are you insinuating that I’ve botched up my job of Christmas light wrangler?” he joked, but bent to flick the switch on the plug socket.

Robin gave light, little claps with the tips of her fingers as the tasteful dots of warm light showed beautifully and evenly spread across the tree branches.  
“OK….you’ve passed the test,” Robin admitted and picked up a glass bauble offering it almost religiously to him, “You have earned the right to trim!” she stated, reverently.  
He snorted but followed her lead and accepted the bauble with a serious air, “With great power comes great responsibility,” he announced, before they both broke into giggles and began covering the tree with the various ornaments.

“How come this reminds you of your Aunt Joan’s tree?” Robin asked as she positioned a wooden candy cane so that it dangled freely between the fake branches.  
Strike was enjoying the task of transferring the selection of coloured objects from the sofa to the tree; it appealed to his sense of routine to watch one scattered selection reduce in number bit by bit.  
He shrugged and regarded their partially completed creation, “It’s just colourful, and they’re all different. Aunt Joan has all sorts of stuff on her tree. Some are ancient, others are things made by me and Lucy when we were little. There was a bell that had lost it’s clacker thing, but it still goes on the tree…..she always insists that it never goes next to one of the ones that rings….says the poor bell would get an inferiority complex!”

Robin smiled warmly at his features which had softened as he spoke….it might also be because he was now nearing the bottom of his second bottle of beer!

“Well, I just like variety,” Robin explained, “I asked all my family and friends to buy me a decoration for the tree when I bought it….saved a fortune ‘cos they’re not cheap, but it meant I got loads of different ones. So now I just buy one new one each year, or when one breaks I suppose……this one of course might get broken first!” and she waggled a rather rude, and well endowed Santa at him before holding it against the tree and muttering, “Oh no! He can’t be pointing that at an angel!” and hastily repositioning the phallic ornament.

“Stephen?” Cormoran queried, giving the item a second and eyebrow raising glance.  
“No!......My mum!” Robin grinned while Strike slow blinked and shook his head.

Strike continued to place ornaments on the tree, considering her resourcefulness as always.  
It was so like Robin to think up a way to decorate her Christmas tree that didn’t cost her, or anyone an arm and a leg….and also just like her to accept any of the varied decorations she was presented with without worrying about whether they ‘went’ with her tastes….and also to make sure that Santa bearing his cock was given as much consideration as the more tasteful additions.

Robin had moved across to her desk and was opening the drawer as Strike twisted a branch fractionally to release a wirework teardrop shaped decoration so that it twirled pleasingly.

“I got this one for this year,” she stated, holding out a small, plain white, paper bag, similar to the ones they picked up for take out sandwiches. “I thought you might like it…once I realised the tree could only fit here…..thought I might need to sweeten you up and convince you!”

He glanced down and accepted the bag, reaching his large hand inside and withdrawing a plain, plastic, silver bauble bearing the red Arsenal football team crest.  
He was legitimately touched by the thought and stroked his thumb across the smooth surface of the ornament.  
“Thank you,” he stated sincerely, “I love this…..it’s great. Thank you Robin.”

On impulse he reached out his arm and dragged her into a slightly off centred hug; her face fell against the scratchy warmth of his beard and jaw and she felt him inhale as her hair and subtle scent surrounded his senses.

Releasing her, somewhat reluctantly, he found a place near the middle of the tree which was bare enough for ‘his’ bauble and hung it before taking the feathered robin which he’d kept to one side and placing it adjacent to it so that they hung almost side by side on the branches.

“Perfect,” he murmured before downing the rest of his beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tree has a sort of colour theme, but I have lots of different types of decorations, and Mr Hobbes has a trio of Liverpool FC decorations which don't match the colour scheme at all....but they go on the tree each year!


	3. I can't reach the top of the tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finish decorating the tree and Cormoran gives Robin a boost!

Robin took the length of glittering, ruby coloured tinsel which Strike had placed around her neck and draped it artistically over the branches, taking care not to cover up the actual ornaments.  
Cormoran did the same with a length of gold and purple tinsel closer to the top of the tree, and after adding several more pieces in various shades, including one rather gaudy matte pink and raffia one, which Robin wrinkled her nose at and placed towards the back of the tree, they stood back and regarded their handiwork.

“Gorgeous!” Robin stated, reaching to adjust a couple of branches and decorations, the various colours and soft lights reflecting against her pale skin and blue-grey eyes.  
Strike simply nodded and took the opportunity of staring unashamedly at his partner’s natural and unaffected beauty, however she twitched suddenly and gave a wide, beaming grin as she went back to her still open desk drawer.

“Almost forgot about these,” she held up a packet of chocolate tree decorations in the shape of square, wrapped presents, “I thought the bauble might not be enough to persuade you but you caved too easily!” she giggled as his face lit up.

“Choccies! Now you’re talking, Ellacott!” and he swiped the packet, tearing off the wrapping and extracting one of the small chocolates, “Although you could just hang regular sized chocolate bars on it rather than piddly little things like this!” he held up the unwrapped ‘parcel’ and popped the whole thing into his mouth.

“They’re bite-sized!....at least for you they are!” she grinned as she began fastening the rest of the chocolates onto the tree.

“I’d need about 12 of these to get a decent chocolate fix,” he stated, eyeing the one in Robin’s fingers.

“Well, there are only 8 in the packet, so tough tits!” she quipped.

Cormoran moved across to the almost empty box and sifted through bits of kitchen roll and tissue paper which had been used to protect some of the more delicate baubles.  
Robin joined him and lifted out the plain cardboard and tinfoil star which looked very much ‘home-made’.  
“Nobody bought me a star for the top,” she explained. “I had to get creative and make one.”

At some point she’d kicked off her boots and was padding around in her thick tights.  
Strike always marvelled at the small, neatness of her feet, especially when she was standing on tiptoes as she was currently.  
“I can’t reach the top of the tree!” she complained.  
The width of the base made the actual top difficult for her to get close to, even on her tippy-toes.

“Let me,” Strike suggested, and she assumed he’d take the star and fix it onto the pointed top himself.  
Instead she gasped as she felt his strong hands firmly around her waist, lifting her smoothly from the floor.

He liked the fact that his fingers met with a yielding softness around her waist, despite the fact that his large palms and thumbs almost encircled her feminine narrowness, and he like the fact that she had gasped a little as he lifted her.

Robin managed to gather her composure – somehow! – and she fiddled with the sandwich bag ties which were fastened to the back of the star with Sellotape and which served to hold it in place on the top of the tree.  
She wriggled slightly and felt her foot brush against Strike’s knee, or thigh; and from the firmness she felt, and the slight grunt from Strike, knew without looking that it was his prosthetic one.

Glancing up at her gave Cormoran a rather glorious view of the perfect swell of her breasts beneath her plum coloured sweater and he stifled a grunt as he felt her foot caress his thigh…panicking slightly that if she repeated the action slightly higher her toes would meet with an additional foot hold!

“OK….done,” she managed to state, more calmly than she felt, and she felt herself being lowered to the familiar floorboards.  
Cormoran cleared his throat and Robin adjusted her hair as he removed his hands from her waist and dragged one through his own unruly hair.

“Right…..pub?” Robin suggested.

Cormoran recognised a slight pink tinge to her cheeks, and considered that she’d already consumed a beer and a couple of swigs from his third one.  
The pub, and a glass of wine or two in addition, might be a very bad idea….especially given that his palms smelled of Robin’s perfume and the feel of her soft body was fresh in his frame of reference.

Fuck it….’tis the season to be jolly!

“Get your coat!” he replied, “I’ll ask if they can rustle you up an egg nog!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter contains Lula's second favourite 'Hobbesian' line from me!


	4. I need help wrapping this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Strike have been trimming the office tree and have gone to the Tottenham.  
Having decided on a take away meal, Strike asks Robin for help...and she finally makes his iron resolve crumble.
> 
> **the Robin squirming under Strike's arms resting on the table is loosely based on the scene in The Vicar of Dibley with Harry (had to get an Armitage link in for you RobinleStrange!!)

The atmosphere in the Tottenham was a mixture of warmth and whimsey; the Pogues’ Fairytale of New York played in the background on what felt like repeat and groups appeared throughout the evening sporting various festive headgear choices and there was a rumbling and comforting crackle from the roaring logs that were added to the fire, on one occasion by Cormoran himself, which had made Robin develop an almost instant, dreamy image of him as a hunter-gatherer, alpha male, chopping logs and bringing ‘fire’.  
“You alright, Ellacott?” he asked when he sat back down on the small stool across from her at their familiar table containing Robin's large glass of white wine and the remains of his second pint of Doom Bar.  
She shook herself back to the present and to the fact that it was just regular, slightly battered but cutely boyish looking Cormoran sat opposite her in his red half-zip sweater.  
“Fine, just….you know couple of drinks and a fire…..I’m sure I’ve got rosy cheeks!” she puffed them out a little and gulped down a large mouthful of her wine, feeling like it was lasting rather a long time compared to what a small glass usually did!

Strike was feeling the effects of the warmth too, although it was focussing itself rather more on his groin than other parts of his body.  
Robin’s slender but curvaceous body had felt so right earlier as he’d lifted her to reach the top of the tree in the office. And the sight of her across the table from him, waiting for him when he came back from the loo made his stomach lurch and his cock twitch in the most deliciously uncontrolled way.

The past barriers to any form of relationship developing between them had mainly gone; Robin had been divorced for over 6 months, and Strike hadn’t been seeing anyone for slightly longer. However, the possibility of balls-ing up the best relationship he had ever had with a woman was still upper most in his mind when he considered the inviting temptation of her lips……as was the case now as they pouted back at him across the table.

“Have you got anything planned to eat?” he asked as he distracted himself from his highly unprofessional thoughts by considering his stomach.  
Robin raised her eyebrows, thinking about the contents of her fridge without much enthusiasm.  
“Not really….might cobble together a stir-fry. Why?” she asked.  
“Just thought we could get some take out, I’ve got a code for 20% off on that app but there’s a minimum order of £25….and even I’m not that much of a greedy bastard!” he explained.

Robin grinned, the thought of mushroom soup, prawn crackers and copious amounts of egg fried rice was highly appealing to her slightly fuzzy headed state.  
“Can we get Chinese?” she asked, curling her lips sexily as he nodded and made a throaty grumble of delight.  
“Definitely! And I’m having duck pancakes……and prawn toasts……..and spring rolls….and I am assuming you want a bucket of fried rice, madam?” he stated as he drained his pint and stood up, dragging his huge overcoat off the stool and pulling it on as Robin bundled herself into her coat and scarf.

“You assume correctly, Sir….and I might have to have one of those chocolate things off the tree for dessert!” she added.  
“No!!!, You’ll spoil the design!” he slurred and tripped slightly on an uneven paving stone.  
Robin clutched onto him instinctively and he allowed his arm to remain draped across her shoulders in a friendly manner as they walked along the still busy pavements. Strike’s somewhat threatening size and expression ensured that the crowds seemed to part around them.

Robin steered them towards a small Tesco Express where they parted; her to purchase chocolate more substantial than a tree decoration and him to place their order for the take away.  
Strike eyed the bag Robin was clutching suspiciously, “That’s a fucking big bag for just chocolate….and since when does chocolate clink?” he asked as she handed the cloth tote across to him. He grasped it by bundling up the long handles and fell back into step alongside her as they neared Denmark Street.

“We drank most of your beer earlier,” she explained, “And a bottle of white wine may well have leapt in there too!”  
More booze on top of what they’d already consumed probably wasn’t a brilliant idea, but the Chinese food would absorb some of it he told himself as Robin fished in her bag for her keys.  
“You take these up, I’ll go grab the food and have a quick fag,” he suggested handing over the keys to his flat and exchanging them for hers to the outside door, their fingers tangling slightly.

He took a steadying breath after she’d gone inside as he lit up a cigarette, drawing his nicotine fix deeply into his lungs and exhaling smoke in a swirling fog through his mouth and nostrils as he made his way down to the bottom of the road and round the corner to the Chinese take away they favoured.  
He considered the events of the day….actually the events of the previous couple of years since Robin had literally turned around his life.

OK, he was still living in a tiny attic flat above his office….but he no longer worried about red, final demands on his bills; he had actually managed to give Robin a pay rise and he was feeling more positive about the future than he had done in years.  
But as he lit a second cigarette from the stub of his first his thoughts went back to their afternoon decorating the Christmas tree which had drifted almost seamlessly into the evening of good company, easy conversation and drinks at the Tottenham….which had now lead into a take away meal…..in his flat……and Robin had bought more alcohol……and her lips always got gloriously shiny when she ate fried rice…..  
He twisted and flexed his neck in an attempt to clear his thoughts and tossed away his cigarette stub before entering the small take away shop front.

The owner recognised him and shouted through to the kitchens as he bundled several boxes and containers into a couple of bags and passed them across to Strike’s outstretched hand.  
Pleasantries exchanged he walked back to the flat, wondering what Robin would be doing as she waited.

As she waited, Robin had located plates and glasses from the neatly stacked cabinet in Strike’s kitchenette and grabbed forks and spoons from the cutlery drawer.  
Strike’s flat had limited space, and limited lighting options.  
He favoured lamps, which had always seemed odd to Robin, given his precarious movement, especially once his prosthetic was removed, she’d always considered that full lighting would be preferable for him! Still, she went with what was available and flicked on the small lamp next to the armchair and the other, taller one nearer the door. Between the pair of them the flat was cast in a warm glow.

She kicked off her boots and hung her coat on the hooks near the door and smiled at the complete lack of anything which signified the festive season.  
On a whim she trotted quickly down to the office and grabbed one of the pieces of tinsel from the Christmas tree.  
Taking it up to the flat she wrapped it around one of the empty beer bottles and placed it centrally on the tiny table.

She then flicked on the TV and located one of the 24 hour Christmas music channels, making sure it was low enough to be just background, and tucked her legs underneath herself as she settled onto the comfy armchair, reaching to flick through the previous day’s Metro, noticing that Cormoran had completed the crossword and also started a list of words from the anagram. She noticed a couple he’d missed and added them in her loopy handwriting beneath his scrawl before hearing his uneven gait on the stairs.

“Comfy?” he asked, smirking at the sight of her looking perfect curled up in his chair.

“Yes, but starving!” she snapped back, leaping up and relieving him of the bags while he took off his coat, nipped to pee and washed his hands.  
When he returned she had unpacked most of the food and was hunting for a corkscrew for her wine.  
“I’ll get that,” he offered while she sat down and began to spoon soup into her mouth, sighing as the hot liquid tricked into her stomach and warmed her………….although the sight of Cormoran twisting the cork efficiently out of a bottle of wine was somehow warming other parts of her too!

He poured her a glass of wine, took a beer for himself and they ate in continued companionable good humour.  
Robin ate enough to satisfy her hunger, and to soak up some of the wine she’d consumed.  
Strike ate enough to satisfy his AND Robin’s hunger….but felt highly restrained at the fact that he left most of the onion in the sweet and sour veg!

Robin was reluctant to leave.  
She was comfortable, warm and enjoying their mixture of light hearted chat and work based discussions.  
After a brief pause in conversation Strike flicked his tongue across his teeth and inhaled deeply.

“Can I ask you for a favour?” he asked, stretching out his long legs beside the table.  
“Course you can,” Robin replied, “Only I am NOT doing that early surveillance on False Nails for you!”  
He chuckled, “I’ve already told Barclay he’s doing it! Can you clear the table off?” and he hauled himself up and went through the short distance to his bedroom.

Robin started to transfer empty boxes to one of the bags for rubbish.  
He returned to the room carrying a paper carrier bag emblazoned with the Hamleys logo and a second bag with what looked like wrapping paper inside.

“Shall I get rid of this?” Robin asked, indicating the tinsel bottle in her hand.  
Strike looked momentarily affronted, “NO! I like it…it’s festive…and smells like beer! Bung it over there,” he gestured towards the small side table where Robin had placed the newspaper.

“I need help wrapping this,” Strike lifted a remote controlled tank from the bag. It was attached to a sort of backing piece of cardboard, but the actual rest of it was….well, tank shaped and knobbly!

Robin regarded it and flicked her gaze up to Strike, “Are you having a mid-life crisis and buying yourself man toys?” she asked.

“It’s for Jack….obviously….although it’s rather good once you get the hang of the controls,” he mumbled.

“OK, I assume you have lots of wrapping paper and some tape?” she asked and he gave her a withering look.  
“Of course I have….I’ve nicked the tape thing off your desk,” and he delved into the second bag to remove the familiar, plastic dispenser and a roll of Rudolph covered wrapping paper.

Robin hastily wiped down the table top to remove the inevitable stray bits of rice and drips of plum sauce and he positioned himself standing beside the small table.  
“Right, OK, let me give you instructions then,” she giggled, kneeling up sideways on the chair so that she faced him.

“Can’t you just do it for me?” he whined, looking quite ruffled, sexy and squidgy now that he’d had a couple more beers; and dragged his hand through his hair several hundred times; and removed his half-zip and rolled the sleeves up on the blue shirt he had under it…..Robin found herself wondering whether she could psychically make another button on his shirt pop open to give her a better view of his chest as he hunched over, resting his knuckles on the edge of the table.

“I could….but this is way more entertaining!” she grinned and he couldn’t stop himself growling slightly and casting her a green eyed glare, but it had amusement behind it.

“OK….what first? This….I assume I need a big load of it?” and he tugged the plastic wrapper from the roll of paper and pulled out a piece.  
“More than that,” Robin instructed, “You’ll need enough to go round it long ways….keep pulling.”

Once Strike had dragged what he considered a “Way too big!” piece of paper off the roll Robin told him to lay it on the table and position the tank on top with the flat cardboard side down, and facing lengthways.  
He did as she said and looked up for the next instruction, but met with her grimacing face and shaking head.  
“It’s the wrong way round!” she stated, wrinkling her nose.  
He looked down at the paper and toy, “It’s lengthways!”  
“No! It needs to be the other way round,” she gestured a twisting motion with her hands as she knelt up further on the chair to try to make her point.

Strike mumbled something unclear under his breath, turned the toy through 90 degrees and lifted his hands in the universal signal of ‘is that OK?’  
Clearly it wasn’t as Robin continued to moan and shake her head, her lips pouting out.  
“NOoooooo! The other way!”  
“Oh! For fuck’s sake!!” he rather petulantly exploded, turning the whole thing through 180 degrees so it was facing the other way. “Why does it make a difference?”

Robin huffed and stood up, stomping her socked feet across and placing the toy lengthways, but the opposite way round to how Strike had originally had it positioned, before returning to her chair, arms folded across her chest.  
Cormoran looked down at the toy incredulously.  
“Why didn’t you just say you wanted the hull and barrel in alignment facing forwards?” he quipped and curled his lip at Robin’s ridiculously crumpled face.  
“Because I have no idea what any bits of a tank are called, Army Man! Anyway, take that end of the paper and pull it back towards you, and then pull the other bit up and forwards, and give the end a fold over bit….it’ll make it easier to stick without tearing….trust me!” she smiled.

Strike took a deep breath, mainly because her smile was ridiculously seductive in the soft lamplight of his flat, but also because he wanted to get the present wrapped up correctly.

He did as he was instructed and Robin told him to stick the centre part with some tape, “Don’t pull a big bit off though, just….medium sized.”  
“You realise that’s a relative term don’t you? How big would you consider big?” and he pulled off what he considered an OK length piece of tape.  
“That’s too big!” she stated, “About two thirds of that.”  
He regarded the piece, crumpled it into a ball and tried again.

Robin tried to stop her mind turning feral…..Cormoran’s idea of ‘normal sized’ was so big…..oh, she was becoming rude and giggly.....thank God Ilsa wasn't there!

“Right, stop laughing and tell me what to do with these bits,” and he waggled the loose side sections of paper.  
Robin sniffed and tried to rid her mind of filthy thoughts about the size of Cormoran…..and not his Sellotape!

“OK, you need gentle hands now or you’ll rip the paper. So sort of guide the top bit down, then make like a paper aeroplane with the ends and flip the bottom bit up.  
He puffed out his cheeks and arched up his eyebrows as he tried to follow her detailed instructions.

He managed the push down bit and got one end folded into a triangle but then looked up at her, shaking his head and completely bemused.  
“I’ve run out of hands!” he exclaimed, looking so innocently sexy and useless that Robin’s control snapped.  
She giggled and came over to him, replacing his hands with her own giving him free hands to fold the other end over and flip up the section.  
She moved her hand out of the way and looked up at him.  
“Now put some tape on and do the other side,” she said simply.

He still had both hands holding the flap of paper in place, “How do I get the tape? Come on Ellacott….get your practical, problem solving mind on it!”  
Close to him now she could see that his pupils were blown wide and dark, and his slightly off centred lips looked so soft.  
The tape dispenser was near the wall, across on the other side of the table to Robin.  
Something about the way he was arching his eyebrow at her and giving out wafts of his deeply masculine aroma made her suddenly a little impulsive.

Cormoran gasped and swallowed as she slid herself under his arms which remained rigidly clasping the Rudolph wrapping paper against the side of the toy tank.  
Robin’s body slotted into the small space between Cormoran and the table and deftly tore off a piece of tape from the machine.  
She moved Strike’s fingers out of the way and stuck down the flap and repeated her action on the other side.

“I’ll fold this bit, you do the tape,” she instructed with a slight tremble in her voice.  
He felt out for the tape dispenser and pulled off a piece of tape, he had no idea how long it was and had no idea where he was placing it, although her fingers slid over his and seemed to be guiding….or where they stroking and caressing?

Fuck!

Strike very quickly became aware of their proximity and very quickly became aware that Robin’s arse was dangerously close to grazing against the rapidly stiffening front of his trousers.  
Her perfume was the only thing he could smell and he realised his eyes had fluttered closed as her fingers moved his hands infront of her in order to fasten the parcel.

Once he was no longer pressing the paper against the gift he was unsure what to do with his hands….and then Robin did that hair flip to one side of her neck thing, and her hips twitched back against him and suddenly he knew exactly where he wanted his hands.  
He grasped hold of Robin’s hips and turned her beneath him, and to his delight she went willingly, her fingers reaching up to find the soft curls at the nape of his neck and they seemed to pull each other into the kiss.

Their lips met in a soft and tender press which neither broke.  
Cormoran slid his hand into her hair and moved his mouth to slant across hers as they moved their lips in unison.

It was Robin who parted her lips first with a small, breathy sob; but it was Cormoran who flicked his tongue against her lip and then slid it into the welcoming warmth of her mouth.

It quickly became a heated and frankly X-rated kiss as Strike’s hands slid across her back, pulling her hips towards him and pressing her body against his small kitchen table with his own weight.

Robin’s hands swarmed across his broad back, and shoulders, and his gloriously muscular buttocks, helping to pull him closer to her and allow her to grind against the incredibly promising firmness in his trousers which seemed very much in proportion to his sticky tape measurements!

Cormoran’s brain was on fire with the months of pent up control he had suddenly allowed to break free.  
His hands were finally able to glide up across the soft fabric of her sweater and tangle into her hair…..quite literally tangle.

“Ouch!” Robin hastily pulled back as Strike’s hand snagged within her hair.  
His fingers where somehow knotted up and the silken strands he had so long dreamed of trailing through were now dragging her head backwards as she swore repeatedly.

“Oh, fuck! Sorry….Robin….sorry, let me just….Ohhhh, shit!”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!

Robin held her head up at an angle, gripping her lip between her teeth as Cormoran tugged to remove his large, hairy hand from the golden haven of her hair.

“Oh…..I see the problem now….erm, Robin I’m sorry but I seem to have got a piece of Sellotape stuck in your hair!”

Robin slumped back to perch against the table and failed to stifle the body shaking laughter emanating from her as Cormoran winced and shook his head at his own ineptitude.

“Let’s go over there and you can try and untangle me. Oh Lord, Cormoran…..you really are rubbish at wrapping stuff up!” she giggled, slipping across to the arm of the large armchair where the light was better.

He followed - the hindrance in his trousers no longer such of an issue! – and angled himself so that he could see the offending strip of tangled up sticky tape.  
As gently as he could he removed it, taking a few long, golden strands with it and held it up infront of her still giggling face.  
She took it from him, dropped it to the floor and made a semi serious investigation of his now empty hands to check for more before placing them purposefully back on her waist and neck.

“Let’s try that again shall we….I was rather enjoying it!” she purred, lifting her chin again and smiling against his pursing and eager lips, sliding effortlessly back into a deeply sensual kiss.

After several, passion fuelled minutes Cormoran drew himself back, pressing his hips back into hers, making his rekindled desire for her evident.

“You know, Ellacott….I am useless at wrapping stuff up……but I am absolutely exceptional at the unwrapping bit!” he punctuated his statement with purposeful nips along the exposed skin at Robin’s neckline.

“Show me,” she breathlessly whispered and squealed as Strike grunted; part caveman, part animal; and swept her up into his arms; stumbled slightly - the chivalric side of his nature had forgotten that he was a one-legged, slightly alcohol impaired old man! – but with Robin in his arms he felt a little bit invincible as he carried her the thankfully short distance to his bed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, this is a bit longer than I planned....but hey ho!  
Yuletide Felicitations to one and all!


End file.
